


Kindle

by TheBlindBandit



Series: Down To Bismuth [2]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Banter, Cooperative Swordmaking For All Your Budding Relationship Needs, F/F, Flirting, Gem Rebellion, Gem War, Growing outside of one's purpose aka my one true SU love, Pre-Canon, Rebellion, Self-Doubt, Solidarity, Swords, You know All That Good Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: Early in the Rebellion, Pearl introduces Bismuth to the concept of rubber ducking in an attempt to avert a crisis of confidence. Banter and crushes might also be involved. Bismuth/Pearl, mostly in that slow burn phase.
Relationships: Bismuth/Pearl (Steven Universe)
Series: Down To Bismuth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/553705
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Kindle

**Author's Note:**

> In the words of a famous poet: "while you studied the blade i studied the forge so i could make you the very best blade in the world! love you baby".  
> I'm having a rather spectacularly bad time IRL right now and the bad news just keep rolling in (not even counting SU ending), so I dusted off an old WIP intended for Bispearl Week a year or two ago, for the prompt "Swords". These two are a gift, what can I say.

The first few swords were a disaster.

The Forge was rudimentary still, in those early days - didn’t look like much at all, but it was a bold, determined little start. Bismuth did her best: all of her hard-won knowledge, scrounged up information not meant for her or her kind, going towards building what she thought they would need to get weapon production up and running. Raw materials gathered at a great risk - Snowflake had chipped her gem during the last of the supply runs! Tools for Bismuth to try to replicate and experiment with, and a thoroughly raided armoury’s worth of various weapons for Bismuth to learn from, to suit every possible rebellious inclination. All carefully arranged in the semi-natural volcanic caverns in an attempt to enable what she judged might be a sensible workflow.

She decided to go with a simple, plain, straight-edged sword to start with - mid-length to her, meaning a dagger to some and a hefty two-hander to others. The sheer variety already present in the Rebellion was half of its charm and point, wasn’t it just? And Bismuth wanted so very badly to fan the flames of it, to do everything she possibly could to see it, to see all of them, flourish and persevere and come out on top for once.

So Bismuth tried, and tried, and then tried again. Considered her mistakes, weaknesses, what she knew (or, doubt never failed to creep in, _thought_ she knew) she was supposed to be doing and achieving here.

And failed.

The first blade that at least looked right shattered in her hands when she tried to force its tang through a guard and into a handle to put the whole thing together. The rest of its batch became hopelessly crooked when she quenched them. Each new day brought new failures, some unexpected enough as to be termed almost cruelly creative.

Bismuth crushed in one fist the latest useless ingot whose ore ratios she’d clearly gotten wrong in her mounting frustration, and tossed it against the wall with an irritated cry.

And of course, of course, _that_ was the moment Pearl chose to walk in. 

She was clearly shuffling around, trying to make herself more easily noticed. Bismuth knew that if she really wanted (or if she forgot she didn’t need to anymore, as she sometimes did, as they all sometimes did), Pearl could just pop up next to her elbow suddenly and apparently out of nowhere, piping up with a comment or suggestion or a casual greeting. Keep herself unseen and silent, coasting under any notice until whatever passed for “needed”, as easily as Bismuth could tear down walls with her bare hands and carve new ones in their place. They all came from somewhere, of course, from something, and they all carried it with them in one way or another.

“Bismuth?” Pearl called out gently, and Bismuth raised her head from its contemplative slump to meet her gaze.

Her voice and expression were both filled with concern as she inched closer from the entrance, but there was a glint in her eyes that made it clear Pearl would not be deterred or dismissed and that it would do nobody any good to try. So, figuring she had nothing to lose, Bismuth abandoned any nascent idea of pretending nothing was wrong, allowed her shoulders to sag, and let her misery show.

“I’m not cut out for this. Literally,” she admitted quietly, arms raising in a feeble attempt to encompass _this_.

Pearl snorted, hopping up to sit on the anvil with a highly deliberate and highly unconvincing casual air. “Tell me about it.”

Bismuth sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with a tiredness she wasn’t sure she was supposed to be capable of, and leaned next to her.

“I ever tell you of my first actual visit to a forge?”

Pearl shook her head and drew closer, making them look like a real pair of conspirators. 

“Wasn’t all that long ago. I took the chance and snuck into a weapons production plant when the hematites weren’t around. Me and the other bismuths had been working on some training grounds right next to it and I’d wanted to see one for so long, so one day during a shift change I just went for it. And it was… Well. Let’s just say the last time that place had seen a bismuth was when it was being built.” 

Bismuth ran a hand through her hair, and noticed that, for perhaps the first time since they’d met each other, the gesture didn’t result in Pearl immediately being endearingly enraptured by the tumbling rainbow locks. No, her eyes were fixed on Bismuth’s face, intent and understanding in a very particular and oddly encouraging way. So Bismuth continued. “I didn’t even fit in there, Pearl. I was too big for the bellows and too small for the anvils, and I could barely walk around the quenching baths they had set up. It was all just… wrong. The whole place was screaming at me, telling me I didn’t belong there and couldn’t if I tried.”

“You’re still trying, though, despite that,” Pearl pointed out, and swept an arm out to seemingly encompass the entire forge. “And look at all of this! You’ve been working so hard to make it your own.”

“Because I want this!” Bismuth burst out, resorting to unusually ruffled pacing around the anvil. “I’ve wanted this for so long! And the Rebellion _needs_ this! I thought I could do it, and I’m trying to learn so very hard! _Why can’t I?_ The simplest thing a hematite could do five minutes after popping out of the ground I can’t get right after grinding at it for _weeks_!”

“But you haven’t given up!” Pearl reiterated, raising her voice to match, and Bismuth relented, stopping in her tracks.

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m not planning to. And something tells me you aren’t either.” She smiled and shrugged in mock-defeat. “Guess we’re a stubborn pair of boulders like that, huh?”

It was certainly more than a trick of the light when Pearl appeared to preen at that, puffed up chest almost exclaiming a proud _Me! A boulder! Imposing and immovable and sturdy!_

Then, with a grin, she proclaimed: “We absolutely are.”

Bismuth couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, something unpleasantly tight finally uncoiling from around the inlaid edges of her gem. Pearl quickly joined her, helping to fill the forge with a delightfully improper little cackle.

When they both settled down again, side by side at the anvil, everything stayed just that little bit forgelight-orange brighter. A pleasant, comforting warmth in place of an oppressive volcanic heat aching to burst.

“I believe you can succeed,” Pearl began again, more slowly, as if picking out each word with great care. “But - and I am working on all of this myself still - I also think you should be aware you don’t _have_ to do this. I know - _oh_ how I know - that more often than not it feels like the most phoney thing in the world… but remember: you don’t have to be useful to be of value.”

It did sound quite a bit like a learned platitude, the way Pearl recited it. But there was a feeling of, if not exactly believing it, then of very much _wanting_ to believe it.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Bismuth murmured. “I’m definitely holding on to that one. Thanks. Got any other nugget of wisdom for me, Terrifying Renegade?”

Pearl effortlessly and gracefully evaded Bismuth’s jokingly nudging elbow and continued her almost-lecture. “Well, we all need to remember that love and self-love are radical and revolutionary concepts in Homeworld’s eyes.”

Bismuth burst out laughing again. “What was that supposed to be? Was that really your best Rose Quartz impression?”

The forgelight turned the blue in Pearl’s cheeks into a fascinating range of colours as she moved and turned. “Well, yes and no– focus on the message!”

“Alright, alright,” Bismuth acquiesced. “It’s a good message. And an important one. Just… not really helping me with the task at hand, which is arming all of us so we can defend ourselves against those who’d prefer that message didn’t spread. And there’s a whole lot of them and not a lot of us. Yet.”

Pearl hummed in response, suddenly pensive, gazing down to where her feet were dangling off the side of the large anvil, toes describing elaborate patterns in the air - courtly dance steps or fencing drills footwork, Bismuth couldn’t tell. Always restless.

“You know, the first time I properly sparred with Rose and got her to stop holding back on me I got utterly trounced,” Pearl shared quietly. “It’s not exactly a fond memory of mine. After all that training, after trying so hard - I was so sure I was ready! But no, in a real battle I’d have gotten _pulverised_. And Gems… even here, in the Rebellion, you have to admit, Bismuth, you’ve seen the way a lot of them look at me, too.”

“Well,” Bismuth said with a soft huff of a chuckle, “can’t say watching you show them the error of their ways the first time they show up for training isn’t a treat.”

“I think…” A small blush appeared on Pearl’s cheeks - icy blue tinged purple in the forgelight that Bismuth just had to pause and appreciate every time - and she seemed to develop a sudden and intense interest in a spot on the anvil right next to where she was sitting. “I think the fact you never really looked at me like that is one of the main reasons I like you so much.” 

“Oh?” Bismuth managed around a strangely constricted throat, and a warmth in her face that had nothing to do with the persistent lava-glow of the newly dug channels.

“I remember– our very first meeting you immediately started asking me about my swords, and I didn’t have to waste endless time just getting you to _talk_ to me like a Gem, let alone listen to what I had to say.” Pearl gasped out an odd chuckle, “It was such a _relief_!”

A mouthy little pearl, she’d thought, unusual and prickly, but utterly charming in a way Bismuth was fairly sure she wasn’t supposed to be. The way she carefully dusted off the anvil before jauntily perching on it - much like she was perching on it right now - with a very loud air of _I’m certainly not doing this for_ _ **you**_ _, I just do not want soot anywhere on my person_. How could Bismuth resist being near-instantly won over?

Pearl pressed a long, thin finger against her chin thoughtfully, and hummed. Certainly seemed to be taking the whole thing entirely seriously, and Bismuth found herself feeling an odd relief. What did she expect, Pearl to laugh at her worries and frustrations? Dismiss them as unfounded somehow, as both silly and imagined? Just agree, say that _oh, guess that’s just how it is then_ , _best find some other way of making yourself useful to us_ \- which, yes, of _course_ usefulness wasn’t the point at all, on the contrary, but…

But Pearl was speaking, that thoughtful finger still up. “How about… we make one together. An entire sword. And you can talk me through it.”

“ _Talk_ you through it?”

Pearl seemed to be growing increasingly enthusiastic about the idea. “Every step of the way! Every detail you can think of! Trust me, there’s no better way to find out where it’s going wrong. And I’ve… well,” Pearl hesitated suddenly, as if catching herself, “I’m no expert, of course, but I’ve looked into some of these things on my own, too. So I will be able to make sense of what you’re saying - even though that might not even be the point. The point is that _you_ make sense of what you’re saying.”

Bismuth didn’t feel entirely convinced, but Pearl’s sudden whirlwind felt very hard to not get caught up in - strange, that. Usually it was Bismuth herself getting others caught up in all sorts of things, loudly and unabashedly and delightfully Homeworld-unapproved. “If you say so.”

“Trust me, it’ll help. Here,” Pearl hopped off the anvil and went off to the raw material containers as if there was not a single moment more to lose, “ore selection first. Tell me all about your mix.”

“Uh,” Bismuth blinked, and did her best to concentrate on the task she supposed was at hand, but Pearl was at the same time incredibly distracting and the very embodiment of pointed, precise focus. She cleared her throat, feeling the newly familiar and surprisingly pleasant stick of hot air and volcanic ash in the back of it. “Well, for this particular brand of steel, this was my ratio.” A careful fistful after fistful, from her carefully arranged containers, with Pearl nodding along.

“Seems like a good composition to me. Of course, not exactly how I’d measure anything out, but, well, I’m me.” Spoken with a grin Bismuth just had to match.

“Let’s just say my hands have had a lot of practice when it comes to measuring things out. All those spires don’t just pop into existence magically holding themselves together, no matter what those upper-crusts seem to think.”

“Well, it was bound to come in handy some day,” Pearl nodded sagely, and Bismuth couldn’t restrain her guffaw.

“Pearl! That was absolutely terrible.”

Her smug little smile was so _proud_. Bismuth almost let all the ore in her hand scatter on the floor when Pearl took her by the arm and started pulling her towards the lava pools. 

“Thank you! Now, no more dawdling. Show me your smelting! Remember: every step of the way,” Pearl repeated with a tiny but lingering touch on Bismuth’s arm. It was such a small hand in comparison, every bit of it looking fine and fragile - but she’d seen it wield a sword and it was no joke and no dainty detail of a trinket. Far, far from it.

Bismuth felt her face heat up, and she quickly dipped her ore-hand into the lava bubbling in its channel nearby. The ingot-to-be filled up her hand and she tried to focus on that, but– oh, Pearl was clearing her throat and looking away too.

It seemed so ridiculous to even imagine her all in utterly impractical frills, trotting behind some lousy, spoiled clump of aristocratic dirt. Not only a waste of potential as Rose often said, but an outright crime.

“Ready for the forging?” Pearl sprung up eagerly, breaking the reverie, then jolted, as if remembering something. “Oh! Just a moment. Allow me!”

With a very dramatic wave of her hand, a hologram sputtered to life from her gem, and Pearl herself leaned forward and down just slightly to centre it on the anvil.

“There we go. A perfect reference, don’t you think? And perfectly practical!”

“Oh, wow,” was about all Bismuth could manage at the sight of the lovingly detailed holographic blade before her. She quickly dropped the hot ingot in place, transformed her hand and hammered at the metal. The blade glowed, freshly struck into shape, orange mixing with Pearl’s translucent blue and playing around both of them.

In no time at all the emerging blade matched its holographic counterpart and seemed to be ready for quenching, so Bismuth happily informed Pearl of this next step. “I’m going for plain water this time.”

Steam poured out around both of them, standing almost cheek to cheek over the quenching bath - this one perfectly sized for Bismuth’s use - eager to see what they’d made so far once the haze dispersed.

Nudging Pearl with one shoulder and waving an annoyed hand around, Bismuth put on the snootiest voice she could manage. “Pearl, what is the meaning of this? Look at the _state_ of the place! When was it last dusted?”

Pearl grinned, the little soot mark on her chin moving dashingly in tandem. “Oh it’ll dust itself well enough when I dissipate your form.”

“Hahah! Atta Pearl.” The clap of the hand on her back almost sent Pearl stumbling, but then she straightened up and leaned happily into it. Smugly, even. Her entire back fit into Bismuth’s palm - what an odd pair the two of them must have made. 

Bismuth decided she liked the feeling.

She cleared her throat. “You know, when we get this right? When we end up with a proper sword? It’s all yours.”

Pearl looked up, almost startled, eyes wide and slightly watery. “Mine? Oh, _Bismuth_ , I couldn’t possibly…”

“I insist. You’ve definitely more than earned it. But most importantly… I want you to have it. And I’d be honoured to see you carry it into battle, or, hey, use it to knock some sense into a rowdy quartz newbie or two.”

A sudden thought made her stop in her tracks. Who in their right mind would want to go into battle relying on a second-rate experiment of a weapon from a cobbled-together forge?

“I-I mean– if you want to, of course, I didn’t mean to, uh, force it–”

A slender hand was lightly placed over Bismuth’s once again, quieting her near instantly. Pearl’s smile was small but reached her eyes and lit them up with a beautiful sincerity. “Of course I do. The honour will be all mine,” she said. Then, with a bit more audible steel: “And I know it will turn out excellently.”

“Because we made it together?” Bismuth hazarded a guess, but was cut off.

“Because I know _you_.”

She blinked at the sudden intensity, but felt an answering rush, too. Oh, it was impossible not to get caught up in it all: the wonderful rightness of their championed ideals, the beautiful words of the manifesto, all the Gems they could finally do right by, everything each of them stood for, Rose Quartz herself, Garnet, _Pearl_ … 

Bismuth had no intention of doing anything but eagerly dedicating all of herself to it, and every bit of skill she might hope to possess. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

A fighter of Pearl’s calibre, and a cause as important as theirs, deserved only the best. Bismuth was determined to provide it.

  
-

The next battle of the fledgling but intrepid Rebellion saw Pearl charge in with a newly forged sabre, Bismuth beaming proudly right at her side.


End file.
